


Siren Call

by emberwing



Category: The Property of Hate
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emberwing/pseuds/emberwing
Summary: Seems things have been changing since Siren was last topside. The world doesn't stop just because she's been wandering the semi-deserted waters of the Make Believe. The Idiot Box certainly never stops looking for Heroes.
Relationships: Julienne/Melody (TPoH)
Kudos: 3





	Siren Call

There is a strange sound in the Sea today.

Siren is not used to sharing the water with others- not a lot are suited for the environment. Even Siren, wooden as she is, needs occasional maintenance to best survive her habitat. There’s the ferryman who works the firth near the House of Paint, occasional Ideas that swim the depths, and those similar to herself that mostly cluster in and around the Market these days. All the protections of the Abyssal and Midnight zones without having to dwell quite so deep and lonely.

Siren’s never felt comfortable in the dark depths. Her joints and seams creak ominously under the pressure, and she’s never sure how alone she actually is.

And so, it is with some surprise that she realizes there is someone in the Sea with her. Long, watery blasts of warbling sound ripple through the water, shaking the carpet of seaweed below and even stirring her lengths of corded rope. Six, ten, twelve- up to twenty second of continuous sound between blasts. Not good. Not good at all. Siren opens her mouth and sings, a continuous note in kind, as long as she can hold it as loud as she can.

There is a pause before the blasts start up again, a little shorter, a little louder. Siren takes off at speed, listening hard for a volume increase to guide her way.

Let it never be said Siren ignored the distress signal of another soul at sea.

* * *

Swimming a decent clip, Siren does not stop singing back to the stranger. Sound carries far underwater, but it’s not too long before an underlying racket to the louder horn blasts make themselves clearer- whatever is going on, they are not meant to be here. Lucky thing they’re in shallows. Muted rattling and jangling join the symphony, which sets off a sense of dread and alarm in Siren once a certain suspicion sets in. By the time she can hear muted tones of chimes and watery wheezes of her squeezebox, Melody’s agogo bells and the top of her harp is in sight rising above the seaweeds, and Siren dives straight down for her.

“Land!” she calls, swimming in front amongst the weeds and grabbing an arm of Melody’s lyre and pointing her own arm three points starboard beam. “Land, three miles, almost there!” Melody shakes her off, adjusting course but letting out a watery bellow of a C sharp as she lowers her head to Siren.

Siren curses.

A mess of ribbon is tangled in vibraslap wires and tambourine slots, limp knives dangling either side of Melody’s main body and chocolate core propped atop her tambourine. Siren sets to work untangling the mess, gathering it into her arms as Melody resumes her plodding pace, cymbals struggling in the sucking mud and throwing up clouds of silt around them. “Got you,” Siren pants, pulling away and racing for shore, following the tug of like-but-not-like that is distant trees. Melody will follow. She’ll be fine. It’s Julienne that Siren fears for.

It’s objectively not long before Siren is throwing herself ashore, but it feels like forever- there is not a _speck_ of pink floss on Julienne’s anatomy that she’s seen and Siren is desperately afraid that it was too late for the bird the moment she ended up in the water. Her marine growth isn’t yet terrible, but Siren still worries the drag is slowing her down. The only good news is that it was a shorter trip than estimated- she gave her directions to Melody based on what way she sensed the closest trees, and the large thicket stops at the wide beach instead of the waters edge.

It's a matter of a minute to stumble ashore to the nearest tree to stretch Julienne out to dry, frantic minutes spent picking apart knots and kinks in the fabric before it can be laid down smooth. Siren stumbles back to survey her work, only just getting her strength back as she looks for anything else she can do. What’s left of her friend is just incredibly… bare. Her pink ribbon still begins deeply in the chocolate torso, and all three knives stay securely attached, sharp enough to have gouged nicks in Siren’s arms now that she looks. One _did_ shave off a barnacle or two. If Julienne were better… well, it’d be one less task at the Market.

She really hopes that means there’s hope for Julienne. All she can do now is guard the remains and keep an eye for the wife.

Siren settles down for a wait, drying quickly in the daytime heat and picking bits of seaweed out of her joints.

* * *

Melody’s arrival is heralded by a guttering scale of sharp notes as the giant breaks the waters surface and struggles ashore.

“Over here!” Siren calls, waving her arms above her head at the distant figure emerging some ways down the shore. “We’re over here!” A short note in response. Siren awkwardly watches Melody slip and slide her way through the sand, unwilling to move Julienne and knowing she can’t help Melody’s way anyhow. It takes an eternity for Melody to first climb the slope to solid ground, then plod an exhausted pace to their spot. Water is periodically spat out of her horns and tubas as the musician clears them out in short, staccato bursts.

“Hey, girl, hey,” Siren murmurs as Melody draws close, coming up to begin picking seaweed out of her parts. “Hey Mel, you’re okay, you made it.” She pauses as Melody comes to a tired, shuddering halt next to Julienne’s ribbons and kneels down, a long, wheezing note coming out of her squeeze box. “Dunno if _she’s_ okay, though.” A few strings pluck in response, and Melody croons out a short tune, _their_ tune, nosing one of Julienne’s knives with a careful nudge. Siren focuses on cleaning Melody, out of place and feeling like she’s intruding. She continues her task even as Melody lays down, wheezing out notes and buzzing piano notes.

Melody finally drifts off after a time, strings falling silent, and Siren steps back, exhausted herself. She is _so_ ready for some restorative dreaming. She would be even _more_ ready if it was dark. Shouldn’t it be getting dark? Siren looks to the sky on old reflex, leftover from a world where light followed a strict schedule and not Her whims. Days can last for ages without warning, technically, but days and nights usually last reasonable lengths nonetheless. The cycle can get a bit murky when Siren’s spent enough time in the Twilight depths to lose sense of Time.

The figurehead freezes.

There is a _sun_ in the sky.

Incorrect. There are _two_ suns in the sky, one dipping below the treeline behind them and the other setting not far behind. Two suns, _two suns_ how did she not notice? When did this happen?

“…Oh this is _definitely_ his fault.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know there is frustratingly little research out there about what instruments not made for being played underwater sound like underwater? It’s like people don’t want to wreck their expensive instruments in order to find out, it’s very rude for me.  
> Fun Fact the neighborhood was narrowly saved from me picking up my trumpet to find out how long a person could play a single blast for as loud as they could.  
> Now I KNOW we recently found our Beautiful Wives in the comic, but Siren was an idea that come up months ago and is finally getting what she deserves in the midst of quarantine.


End file.
